Digital heart book

[1] A low lawyer.
"Well, what do you think of Douglas B.?" whispered
Pinkerton, looking reverently after him as he departed.
"Six foot of perfect gentleman and culture to his
boots."
During this interview the auction had stood
transparently arrested--the auctioneer, the spectators,
and even Bellairs, all well aware that Mr. Longhurst
was the principal, and Jim but a speaking-trumpet. But
now that the Olympian Jupiter was gone, Mr. Borden
thought proper to affect severity.
"Come, come, Mr. Pinkerton; any advance?" he snapped.
And Pinkerton, resolved on the big bluff, replied, "Two
thousand dollars."
Bellairs preserved his composure. "And fifty," said
he. But there was a stir among the onlookers, and--
what was of more importance--Captain Trent had turned
pale and visibly gulped.
"Pitch it in again, Jim," said I. "Trent is
weakening."
"Three thousand," said Jim.
"And fifty," said Bellairs.
And then the bidding returned to its original movement
by hundreds and fifties; but I had been able in the
meanwhile to draw two conclusions.


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